


It's been 50 weeks since i saw vienna

by WiresCarryingMe



Series: Asthma [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Real Person Fiction, Sleepyboisinc, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Author Projecting onto TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Author Projecting onto Wilbur Soot, Cutting, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Fear, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Beta, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Wilbur Soot, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trans TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, ask to tag, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29597796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiresCarryingMe/pseuds/WiresCarryingMe
Summary: He’s drawn to it again, because of course he is.--------------Or, Tommy attempts Suicide. Wilbur and Phil save him.
Relationships: Phil Watson & Technoblade - Relationship, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, found family - Relationship, i hope i didn't miss anything - Relationship, jesus thats alotta tags, platonic - Relationship
Series: Asthma [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189307
Comments: 28
Kudos: 457





	1. I'll put down my roots when i'm dead

**Author's Note:**

> OK I KINDA SNAPPED ON THIS. Enjoy. had since i saw vienna on loop writing, listen to it while reading if ya want. 
> 
> Also don't show this to any content creators, if anyone wants me to take this down then I will, y'know.

He’s drawn to it again, because of course he is. He’s doing it again, because of course he is. He can never stop its like a damn curse. He wishes for the cutting it stop, it was just innocent scratches years ago but now its more than that. It fell farther and farther and he never thought he’d get this far, in multiple meanings of that term. It’s strange. Tommy finds that strange. 

He could make a thousand playlists, he could write a million words (he probably already has), he could count a million minutes, he could do an abundance of everything. Yet it always comes back to it. He doesn’t know how to tell if everything has gotten too much, or how to stop it once it has. He’s always been blind to that, despite everything. He could never stop streaming though, that’s one of the only things keeping him happy. That and his friends. 

His friends that don’t know. His friends he refuses to tell if somethings wrong. He should really do that. It feels like its been years since he saw his childhood self, what he considers his childhood self. He’s still a child. He was drawn to cutting again, and now he’s on the railing of a bridge. With pills. He’s sitting on the railing having a random song on repeat thats embedded in his soul with how much he repeats it and indulges in it. He loves it, yet it is meaningless in the end, despite all the happiness the song gave him, gives him. 

Tommy looks down at the pills and decides to let them go into the ocean, he doesn’t want to go out like that. He wants to feel the water around him, surround and submerge him completely, he wants to go into the depths of darkness feel like nice cold around him and never wake up. His thoughts keeping him company as he finally sleeps. 

He looks down at the water, debating what he should do next, if he should leave a text, a call, anything behind to his friends. His friends are amazing and they deserve more than what hes going to give them. He knows hes going to hurt them, everyone, but yet he can’t escape its grasp. He tried, to thrash out of death’s mist after running toward it but now it doesn’t want to let him go. And he has to follow it. Even though its just this thoughts, he can walk away. He feels obligated, like he signed a nonexistent contract. A promise to himself. 

He opens discord with a long sign, and goes to wilbur. And he types. He puts his heart and soul into the message. Despite that its rather small, with words that communicates so much yet so little in them. 

“I’m gonna speed up deaths job, I’m sorry.” 

he couldn’t bring himself to type it, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it fully. Only to vague it. He does that. He turns off his phone, places it to his side. He puts his arms on the red railings, grips it tightly. It feels cold under him. He feels the cold air blowing him toward the ocean as if its telling him to do it. He can feel his breaths in this night scene, in his red and blue and dark colored scene. With bandages holding his arms firmly with cuts that make him feel uncomfortable. He hates the scars. He hates how they ruined his look, complicated his facecam, he hates them. Yet traces them with his eyes, looks at them. He knows they show that he is “brave”. He finds that stupid since he isn’t brave enough to survive. 

He looks at the night sky, and the dear moon. He felt drawn to the moon for forever, due to their similarities. Now he dies under her light, poetic, really. He closes his eyes and indulges in this last moment. Feels the world all around him. Ignores his mind, trying to get him to jump already while also begging him down. Begging. His mind keeps drawning wilbur running toward him, begging him down and saving him but yet he can’t never find the words. He can never find the words, he cannot finish the piece. He cannot finish the piece for the life, cannot find a bow, cannot find the flow. He’s wrestled with it before, before grabbing it and taming it. But that doesn’t matter, he realizes. Because he’s gonna die. Yet he wants to be saved, a very distant, very quiet, a very unheard part of him says. 

“you just want to be saved” it says. Tommy doesn’t hear it. 

“TOMMY!” Wilbur screams, slamming the car door and running out. He also hears someone else. In his mind he forgot. He texted Wilbur, who drive here and then slammed the car door, running out with someone else huffing. 

He waits for Wilbur to start his plea.


	2. Don't trust English boys with far too much free time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9/10 Wilbur is wrong and not to be trusted. this is the one time out of 10 he can be trusted on his judgement in the worlds eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title of this chapter is from the song "Your Sister Was Right" by Wilbur Soot didn't listen to music while writing because my headphones broke :(   
> Anyways, enjoy :)

He was having a good night that night, all things considered. Phil had driven over around 7 at night, they played some minecraft, hung out, and it was fun! But wilbur couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. Maybe it was the way Techno drove over, the fourth member of their friend group missing. Granted, Tommy is only a teenager, so it wouldn’t be expected of him to just randomly drop by like how Phil and (somehow) Techno did, but still. Maybe it was they way that he hadn’t spoke to Tommy in all day. Maybe it was that Tommy had been acting off. Maybe it was that Tommy was more wounded recently, bandages everywhere, he said it was fine but. Something felt off about it. 

“Something seems wrong, Phil.”, they were sitting on the brown couch together, tv straight ahead of them, Techno had gone out to get some fast food for them to eat at this hour of the night. They were opposite of each other, tired from their night of hanging out. 

“with what? Phil responded, looking over to wilbur, who was curled up on the other side of the couch. 

“Tommy. He’s been acting off and,” wilbur sighed and got up slightly, running his hand through his hair, “I’m worried about him.” 

“Well-” Phil started, but Wilbur continued.

“It’s just that. I don’t know if I’m the only one who noticed but it seems like he had bandages and wounds constantly, and he’s been acting a bit distant and.” he sighed. “I don’t want him to get majorly hurt, I don’t like that it seems he’s patching himself up constantly and. He’s acting like nothings different when he’s been acting odd.” Wilbur ranted at Phil, pacing back and forth in front of the couch.

“Have you told him your concerned about his well-being?” Phil asked. 

Wilbur paused for a moment, stopped pacing, and looked over to Phil. 

“No.” he doesn’t mention that he thinks he’s just being paranoid, he doesn’t mention that he’s afraid that its all in his head and that he’s being weird, he doesn’t mention how he’s irrationally afraid of Tommy hating him for his concern. If there is a feeling Wilbur knows well, it’s paranoia. He knows that, most of his fears, is irrational. He knows that people won’t hate him over talking to them about just silly, stupid, things. He knows that people wouldn’t hate him if he was concerned he knows that people can’t read his mind, he knows that his eyes are fine, he knows that he isn’t going to have a heart attack or a stroke at any given moment, he knows that if things are even just slightly off he’s not going to die. That’s logically. Yet he checks his eyes obsessively, looking for anything that might be wrong, he screams in his mind to try and drive mind-readers away, he checks his walking often, he checks for rashes everywhere, grabs ice obsessively from the cabinet when his chest hurts or when anythings just a bit off (He doesn’t know why he does that.) every time he has a headache or neck ache or shoulder pain like he does almost every fucking day of his life he prays he begs he wonders what he did wrong he wonders if whatever out there is angry at him. At the slightest thing wrong he feels like he as to fix it he feels like he has to pull everything together and make it perfect because he’s feels like he’s resposible for everything. But he’s not. But still, he tries so hard to make everything perfect it hurts, writing and streaming being the only exception to that. There he can just do the act, or write the words from his chest into a page that ache with his soul or write funny things, or whatever he can craft. 

All of that stays in his head. The feeling of something being off tonight, probably just in his head. But still. It doesn’t shake him that he NEEDS to check up on Tommy. Just in case. 

He hears that notification from where he stands in the room, his head turns to his phone on the couch armrest. He walks over to the couch innocently, Phil’s looking over legs curled up on the seat, Wilbur walking towards the phone, turning it on and see the notification. He sees the notification from discord. The notification that's from Tommy, on discord. The message that makes his heart stop. The message that makes his expression something horrible but he feels the paranoia, the fear, the anxiety, whatever it is, rise inside of him to a concerning rate that makes Phil question, in something distantly like “wil?” and whatever comes out of his mouth, questioning fruther or not doesn’t matter in wilbur’s blurry reality in this moment, makes him lean forward and move in the room with the couch and the brown table in front of it with glass, tv, and white walls in a space that feels so limal that night, after techno left to go get food hours ago who know where, blissfully unaware of what Tommy just sent. Of what Wilbur knows 100% Tommy is going to do. 

The message that officially marks this night as the worst night of Wilbur’s life. 

“I’m gonna speed up deaths job, I’m sorry.” 

That moment was so slow, fast in reality. 

“Phil.” Wilbur shoots out of his mouth instinctively. “Phil!” he shouts as he runs out of the apartment, forgetting shoes, keys, everything he needs. He slams the door open and runs down in a mad dash for his car, a confused and concerned Phil following behind with Wilbur’s car keys. He runs towards his car, and he tries to open the door with all his might in his panic. Phil pushes him out of the way, and unlocks it. He turns towards Wilbur who’s already going for the car and puts his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders. 

“Breathe Wilbur.” Wilbur’s mouth runs out with things said as all his focus is on making it to that damn car- why is Phil blocking the car- why. 

“Wil!” he puts his hands on his cheeks and forces him to stare him in the eye. “Whats going on.” Phil demands. 

“Tommy's attempting suicide.” Wilbur rushes out. Unlike Tommy, he has the guts to say it, Unlike Tommy it carries no but yet extremely heavy weight, unlike Tommy he’s said it so many times before, Like Tommy, hes attempted it. Unlike Tommy, he’s tried it multiple times, Unlike Tommy he has tons of unfinished or notes he never used in a draw somewhere, like a makeshift journal only his unbound and full of suicide notes to his family, friends, and makeshift family, sometimes all in one. Sometimes just sets of notes written for the same “series” of notes. 

They rush into the car in moments so slow yet so fast, as Wilbur’s mind sees Tommy jumping, bleeding, hanging, drowning, overdosing, but yet he cannot make a complete vision in his mind, he cannot finish it, he cannot comprehend it. He doesn’t want to face the real thing. He ignores how fast he’s going over the speed limit, he ignores how both he and Phil don’t have seat belts, he ignores how hazardly he’s driving, he ignores that despite feeling like a slow and calm drive its like hes drunk on the road. He knows that its just as likely for them to die as Tommy is likely too right now. He knows that Techno can come home and find his “family away from family” all dead within a night, he knows Techno can look away for his second, gone for hours somehow still getting food- his paranoia only briefly glancing over Techno as a subject to worry, perhaps for a millisecond-and some of the people he cares about the most to be dead. He knows that they could all leave Techno behind. He knows how dangerous grief might be. He knows this. But yet he ignores it in his daze of paranoia.   
Phil is trying to stay grounded, fear is rushing through his veins as the seconds go by, seeing Wilbur spur himself into a panic, in the seconds he is driving, so so so fast, Phil being so concerned about that, but more about Tommy. He remembers it was just last month Tommy came out as a trans boy to them, he remembers telling his boy he’s proud of him. His boy who is apparently attempting suicide, that boy. He doesn’t doubt Wilbur, something he knows the other man is thankful for. Despite his paranoia that would irritate others to no end, he doesn’t doubt that something might be wrong this time with every time he comes to Phil paranoid as all hell. He knows that this time, his mind is not making anything up, if it were anyone else, besides Phil and Techno they would have doubted, anyone besides Phil and Techno they would have convinced him that its all in his mind, regardless of whatever the notification that Phil never and still hasn’t seen, (good because their on the road). But its Phil. And he tries to use this to gain confidence, he tries to think logically. Wilbur is scared and worried and worked up to all holy hell. He would not be useful in the situation he described. That leaves Phil to realistically calm Tommy down from Deaths foggy abyss of mystery, yet he cannot make a scene up in his mind, he cannot imagine one of his boys, (Ok, maybe Wilbur. But don’t tell Wilbur that. Don’t tell Phil that he’s already tried that. Many times and many ways.) doing this. He cannot successfully finish the scene within the seconds, milliseconds, passing by as he’s thinking. He cannot finish it. Phil is trying to make a game-plan within the fear he has, he is trying to make a solution. But he can’t. He can only hear wordless begs in his mind and soul as he feels pure fear, just like Wilbur. Just like Wilbur hes worried sick about Tommy going at Sickening speeds. They bought binders for Tommy as a gift, red, blue, and green. He remembers Tommy being so happy when he got them, he remembers the boys excitement. He remembers Tommy having fun while streaming, he remembers Tommy raving and rambling excitedly about the newest thing he has planned. He remembers his excited, happy, loud, boy. So what happened. He noticed something might’ve been off, but he pushed it away those tiny times he did. Those tiny times that turned big. He cannot help but feel blame. 

It feels like forever, but they’ve made it. They’ve made it to the bridge. They saw Tommy in their mad drive, location unknown but fear controlling the car, not Wilbur or Phil. They stopped the car and ran, out of breath seemingly just after they got out. 

“TOMMY!” Wilbur shouts over the dead night air. The wind all around him as the dead moon shines apoun Tommy. 

And thus, Wilbur's mouth opens. And thus, Wilbur starts his plea.


	3. So hug all your friends and let them know you're not letting go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The air went silent, completely, almost dead. 
> 
> or, 
> 
> Wilbur has no idea what to say to Tommy, and hopes he gets this right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listened to "Hug All Ur Friends" by cavetown while writing!! chapter title from that song. I'm really excited from this chapter, enjoy!!!

Their was a tense silence in the air. Tommy refused to look him in the eyes, instead staring down at the water. He refused to see the two men behind him. He heard a few steps towards him, he felt their hesitance. 

Wilbur had no idea what to say, because what would he? What would he say to what he felt was his refection, he knew this was a precious moment, with little time. Every second seemed like an eternity. He had no idea what to say to Tommy, because he had no idea what he said to himself to get him to stop. He had so much experience with this but he has no idea what to do. 

“We care. Don’t. Don’t do this. Not here, not now. Not in front of us.” Wilbur said anxiously, like he was in school and his grade was dependent on these stupid words. Like he was answering a question a teacher gave him. 

“Why not now?” Tommy asked. 

“You like mcdonalds, right? Wilbur knew his voice was desperate, he knew the tears he felt in his eyes were leaking out his voice instead his eye sockets. He felt his heart race and he knew tried so desperately not to space out, not to blur into his mind and have the world be all blurry as he felt like he was becoming separated form his body. His nails dug into his body and he was trying so hard for Tommy. He felt Phil take in the scene, he saw out of the corner of his eye Phil in a stance ready to run and drag Tommy up. He didn’t know if he would be able to move or not if he jumped. 

“Yeah.” a weak voice rang out on the bridge. Tommy turned towards them, taking them in. 

“Mcdonalds now.” Wilbur said, and held out his hand to Tommy with a step forward. He hopped this wasn’t stupid, he hopes that he has appealed to Tommy. Wilbur that a little thing could gain someone years, he just hoped this little thing was enough for Tommy. 

“Alright.” Tommy sighed, defeated. “Help me off of here.” Wilbur ran over to Tommy, and hugged him, lifted him up, and set him down on the ground, with Phil behind Tommy, blocking the railing he was sitting on. Tommy didn’t trust himself to get off in that moment, and Wilbur was glad Tommy let them help him. 

Wilbur had felt so tired, he knew Phil was tired too, and he knew Tommy was a mess, but they still had a ways to go. Wilbur grasped Tommy’s wrist and led him to the car. Tommy sat in the front seat, where Phil had sat, Wilbur went behind the Wheel and Phil went right behind Tommy. The fourth seat of the car glaringly empty. Phil and Wilbur felt a new weight on them, where the hell was Technoblade. 

Tommy knew why the air was tense (at least partly), he knew this weight that filled the air was apart of him. Apart of him was yelling at himself for sending the message to Wilbur, for allowing him to stop Tommy. But another part felt relieved, that Wilbur came in time. That Wilbur guessed his location. But dreaded whatever conversations and shit came next. The car ride was slow and calm, Phil and Tommy sucking in the night around them, trying to ignore everything for this brief moment of peace, of the car a ride with an empty air, no car radio and silence. Wilbur was driving slowly, no need to drive fast. He turned on the radio and let Tommy fiddle with it, no one talking or objecting to what he did with it. He had gotten Tommy, and that’s all that mattered to him at the moment. The buzzing thoughts in his mind quieted for a moment (but also still talking, wondering, blaming himself, wondering where Techno is, wondering if they needed to repeat what they just did.) Wilbur wiped that away in his mind, surely not. Techno and Phil, they were the stable ones in this group, Techno just scratched up because of his cat and everything, right? (Wilbur ignored how he knew those scars himself, how he was so familiar with them. He brushed it off those months ago, and he will continue to until the day he dies. “Techno had a cat, those cuts were from his cat” is what he would say to himself to the end of time. He ignores, because he cannot deal with that. He knows hes just making stuff up. Little did he know, he’s wrong about that.) 

Each breath was treasured by the two in the group, Tommy focusing on the music to ignore what just happened, drowning in imagination trying to ignore the facts here. The slow drive felt nice, and as they say Wilbur’s place, they wished it wouldn’t end. 

They all exited, and they went inside. Tommy was laid down on the couch, given blankets. 

“We’ll figure this out in a bit, we just need to talk first. You look like you need rest.” they insisted to him. Tommy closed his eyes on the couch. 

Wilbur and Phil were in the living room together, wondering what to do. Wilbur started crying, and he leaned into Phil who hugged him. He felt Phil’s tears as well. While Tommy laid on the couch, ignoring them as best as he could, trying to give them privacy in the form of sleep he isn’t being given. He would hug them when he can, but for now they have each other. He feels guilt run through him. 

Tommy heard the door open, Wilbur looked at Techno. At the sight, a very still Tommy, and tear stricken Phil and Wilbur looking at him and the four packages of mcdonalds in his hands, Techno who was staring at this scene in front of him, he knew he wasn’t prepared for this. 

Techno looked at the scene, and opened his mouth. 

“What’s wrong with Tommy?” 

the air went silent, completely, almost dead. Techno unleashed the bags from his grasp and went over to Tommy, and saw a breath go in and out. Techno sighed in relief. 

“Tommy, you can wake up now sweetie.” Tommy sat up, blue and grey blankets falling down from him, and he looked at Techno. The look on his face looked like death. 

“What happened?” Techno asked the room, voice filled with firmness. 

No one knew how to respond.


End file.
